


In the Darkness (So Much I Want to Do)

by Electra_XT



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Post-Canon, Sibling Incest, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-09
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 01:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29305491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Electra_XT/pseuds/Electra_XT
Summary: A trickle of blood ran down Diego’s lips. “Been a while, Five.”
Relationships: Number Five | The Boy/Diego Hargreeves
Comments: 11
Kudos: 76





	In the Darkness (So Much I Want to Do)

**Author's Note:**

> I saw [Purliish's vampire!Diego fanart](https://purliish.tumblr.com/post/642600530922946560/omg-i-saw-your-tag-on-the-wolfdiego-fanart-and) and I had to. I had to.
> 
> Title from "I Was Made For Lovin' You" by KISS.

The rain lanced down in sheets as Five teleported into the doorway of the boxing gym, stumbling a little.

It was his own stupid fault he’d gotten hurt. The wound on his inner thigh stung, the cut shifting unpleasantly against the fabric of his pants, an ever-worsening reminder of his idiot mistake. He shouldn’t have tracked down that cold case of a Commission agent and picked a fight. The apocalypse was done. Reginald had been swiftly and succinctly told to fuck off. The six siblings had fanned out across the city, beginning their new lives in separate directions, and somehow Five still spent his nights in hotel rooms with a glass of whiskey studying old blueprints under fluorescent lights.

He couldn’t give it up, could he?

Five grimaced, mustering up his strength to teleport down to the basement of the gym and limping along the hallway once he was inside. This was inane. Somehow he didn’t want to patch his wounds under the high, disapproving ceilings of the Academy— every stupid boar and elk gazed down with Reginald’s impassive stare, and the idea of Grace’s phantom footsteps made his stomach cold. All the bandages in the infirmary were decades old, anyway. And he had the good fortune of having a brother who was even dumber than he was.

Five knocked on the boiler room door.

The ceiling thumped with the motion of punching bags. Five shifted his weight, waiting, and then he knocked again.

Maybe Diego was in the shower.

Five closed his eyes, leaning against the wall as his leg throbbed steadily. If he stood out here long enough, maybe Diego would come back and find him. Maybe Five would hear familiar footsteps and open his eyes just in time to see that brilliant smile, that incandescent grin of a man who was still a boy deep inside. And Diego would cuff Five on the back of his neck and Five would stumble because his leg hurt, but he’d jab Diego back and tell him to cut the bullshit and let him come inside and he’d ask where Diego kept the first aid supplies and Diego would say _sure_ and call him some pet name and say _did you stab yourself doing something stupid?_

Five opened his eyes. He held his wrist to his face, taking a moment to make out the numbers on the scratched watch face. Ten minutes had passed. If Diego came home to Five rummaging inside his apartment, Five could probably duck.

Five teleported inside and saw the floor covered in blood.

Five’s heart was pounding as he looked around, taking in the red shape on the linoleum floor.

It had dried. Whatever had been here was long gone— a few hours, maybe. Five’s stomach lurched, threatening to make him sick as he tried not to step in the dried blood. Was it— Diego went out on the street, he made enough enemies— but the outside of the building didn’t look roughed up, the boxing sounds thumped on the ceiling as monotonous as always— if someone had— wouldn’t it…?

Something caught his eye. Five crouched down, delicately picking up something from a small heap of objects and holding it up to the light.

It was a bone. He tipped it back and forth, tapping his finger pad against it, feeling how sticky it was. A chicken bone, most likely. Not old. Mostly cleaned. He looked down, and now that he noticed them, there were dozens of bones in piles around the room, all shapes and sizes, all animal, at least on first look—

“Hey,” a voice said behind him.

Five turned around.

Diego stood in the doorway, dressed in black. His jacket reflected the dim light, but his dark turtleneck absorbed it. Five looked him up and down, measured even as his nerves coursed with adrenaline. Something was different. He wasn’t wearing his knife harness, was he?

Five looked up, searching Diego’s face.

He didn’t have his scar.

A trickle of blood ran down Diego’s lips. “Been a while, Five.”

Five walked away, pacing the length of the boiler room. “So you never moved out?”

Diego wiped his mouth. “Is that really what you’re asking?”

“Yes,” Five said. He had to look away, unnerved. “I know you’re a vampire, Diego, I don’t have to ask that part.”

“I need to make sure you don’t get the wrong impression of me,” Diego said.

“Okay,” Five said slowly. “You’re… vegetarian, I gather?”

“Yeah,” Diego said. “Only animals.”

“I know what it means,” Five said. “I’ve seen vampires before.”

Diego raised his eyebrows.

“I’ve heard of vampires,” Five amended.

There was a pause.

“I read about them once,” Five said, annoyed. He got up, limping to the kitchen area and going through the cabinets. “So how did you get turned?”

“The streets,” Diego said, leaning back against the wall. “Why the fuck are you going through my kitchen?”

Protein powder gathering dust. Five closed the cabinet and opened the one next to it. “ _The streets_ isn’t an answer. Something must have been on the streets.”

“Vampires were on the streets,” Diego said. “What are you looking for?”

“Did you pick a fight with a vampire by accident?” Five said, sorting through what seemed to be Diego’s tax papers.

“I got between a vampire and a potential victim,” Diego said.

“And instead of letting them become a vampire,” Five said, shutting the cabinet door and moving on to another, “you let yourself get turned?”

“Hey,” Diego said. “I don’t think _saving innocent lives_ is a problem here. I—”

“Saving lives, baby,” Five muttered. Eye drops. Extra condoms. Batteries. He pushed them aside.

“What?”

“Nothing,” Five said. “Saving innocent lives?”

“Yeah,” Diego said.

“Verbose,” Five said, tossing aside an empty box that used to hold Command hooks. “How long was that ago?”

“Two months.”

Five stopped.

“It is what it is,” Diego said. His voice softened a little. “I don’t regret it.”

“Your human life traded for one stranger’s,” Five said, looking at the back wall of the cabinet.

“The viligante business didn’t help anyone,” Diego said. “I needed to let it go. I’ve killed enough people taking irresponsible shots and making reckless calls. If someone had to get hurt to be the wakeup call, I’m glad it was me.”

“So you don’t go out on the streets for trouble anymore?” Five said.

“No trouble,” Diego said.

Five pushed a box of cotton balls aside. “But you still go out?”

Diego hesitated.

Five walked over to the fridge, swinging it open. The interior glowed white and empty at him. “You need to eat.”

“Right,” Diego said, voice a touch throatier.

Five shut the door, walking back to the cabinet. “And yet you’ve kept yourself from going out looking for trouble. How do you manage that?”

“You saw,” Diego said. “Chicken bones all over the floor.”

“You’ve been going out hunting?” Five said.

Diego snorted. “You think I can hunt animals in the city? I go out to the dumpsters behind the butchers.”

“And that’s two of my four brothers who have spent considerable time in dumpsters,” Five said. “What a world.”

“You gotta count Luther’s years with Dad after we left.”

Five pressed his lips together to keep from smiling.

“But that’s what I do,” Diego said, audibly pleased with himself. “Butchers, dumpsters—”

“Do you coordinate with the other vampires in the city?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Would you want to _coordinate_ with murderers?”

Five looked down at the boxes he’d stacked on the counter.

“Sorry,” Diego said.

“It’s fine,” Five said. “I know I’ve spent more time on the… morally grey side than the rest of you.”

“We’ve all killed people,” Diego said.

“Funny how that happens,” Five said.

“What are you looking for, Five?”

Five turned around. Diego’s body looked unnaturally radiant. Something had been sharpened about him, undeniable and unsubtle— his body toned, his skin smooth, his scar gone, his eyes dark, his lips plush and soft. Every aspect of his beauty had been dialed up to eleven. Dialed up so high it broke the scale.

And yet he was _him._ No amount of standing in shadows or speaking grimly could erase the essential Diego-ness of him; the living, breathing brother Five had ached for for so many years. The one other sibling he felt tied to invisibly across their shared city. The boy with the stutter. The man who’d grown up.

Five’s eyes flickered up to Diego’s. His throat was suddenly tight, and his body ached.

“I hurt my leg,” he said softly. “I thought you might have bandages, I’ve been teleporting around all night. I’ve been bleeding…”

Diego’s nostrils flared.

“You knew,” Five said slowly. “You can smell it.”

Diego nodded imperceptibly.

“You’ve been hungry all night,” Five said. “That’s why you were out. Your fridge is empty.”

Diego stood dead still.

Five’s heart pounded in his chest. He could feel his pulse through his whole body— through the cut on his thigh. “And I’ve been standing here in front of you on a silver platter.”

Diego’s eyes were so dark. He stood on his own, no longer leaning on the wall. His body radiated unrelenting, raw, naked hunger.

Five walked up to him. Diego’s body was cold. Five stood on his tiptoes and kissed him, lips meeting Diego’s with a metallic tang.

Five felt goosebumps prick his skin as he sat on the bed with his legs splayed open, bare in the cold air. He ran his fingers lightly over his leg hair, feeling it.

“I don’t know how you can trust me to do this,” Diego said hoarsely.

Five looked down. Diego knelt between his thighs, looking up at him with a tortured expression.

“Clean it,” he said. “That’s all.”

“I know,” Diego said. His eyes flickered down to the wound on Five’s leg like he couldn’t help himself.

Five grabbed Diego’s jaw. “I know you know. I’m your brother. You won’t kill me.”

“You don’t know what it’s been like,” Diego rasped. “You don’t know how long it’s been— every day I see people in the gym, I see people when I’m out looking for food. And I want it. You don’t know what it’s like to want it so badly. But then I see another headline about a new spate of killings and I know who’s doing it and I can’t…”

“You _can,”_ Five said. “Tonight. I want you to clean and dress my wound, and you can…” He swallowed. “Have some. Before you patch it up.”

“You don’t know what you’re offering,” Diego said.

Five tightened his hand on Diego’s jaw. “I trust you, Diego.”

Diego’s expression twisted in anguish.

“I swear I do,” Five said. “Nothing could keep me from that. Nothing in the world. Do you know how many goddamn times I’ve been separated from you? From all of you? I know what it’s like to be a pariah, to not fit anywhere, to have to do what it takes to survive. And I’m offering you the exact thing you want so much, in the only way you’re going to get it.”

Diego dropped his head. Five stroked his thick, soft, dark hair.

“I need you to know the risks,” Diego said.

“I know the risk,” Five said.

“I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt.”

“So don’t hurt me.”

Diego looked up. Five caressed his cold cheek, looking down at him. Diego’s lips were parted, and his teeth shone so sharp.

“Thank you,” Diego whispered, and he leaned in and pressed his face into Five’s thigh.

“What’s the limit for how often a human can donate blood in a year?” Five said, lying across Diego’s bed with a large bandage taped securely over his leg.

“Don’t know,” Diego said, moving around in the kitchen.

 _“You_ don’t know?” Five said.

“I stay away from blood banks, they’re for people who need it,” Diego said.

“Hm,” Five said. “How often could a person give blood recreationally?”

Diego groaned. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Conjecture about something plausible is not too tempting for you to bear,” Five said. “Get a grip.”

“You get a grip. You’re the one hanging out with a vampire.” There was a sound of water turning on and filling something.

Five sat up. “What are you doing.”

“Making coffee.”

Five smiled, teleporting into the kitchen and leaning against the counter. “You keep that stuff around?”

“I had some instant crystals from ages ago,” Diego said, grinning down at Five. “Felt like the least I could do.”

Five moved in, pressing his hands to Diego’s solid chest. Under the soft skin and hard muscle, he felt like a refrigerator, thrumming cold with no heartbeat. It would take a long time for Five to get used to that.

“I’ll go out during the day and find blood from the butcher shops,” he said. “I’ll make sure you have enough to sustain you so you don’t have to spend your only functional hours trying to find a decent meal. I might even consider bribing a back-alley phlebotomist to let you have some of mine. But in return… you’ll keep some decent coffee in your kitchen. Deal?”

Diego smiled. He touched Five’s dimple with an icy thumb. “Deal,” he said, and he leaned in and kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on Tumblr at [my fivediego blog!](https://fivediego.tumblr.com/)


End file.
